The Pranksters
by Phelpsies
Summary: Tracy Granston is the twin's brains in the whole process of pranking. But what happens when she gets fed up with Fred? Well, he gets a nice slapping.


"Run!" I yelled to the redheaded boys behind me. They spun around and sprinted down the corridor. I followed behind, since they were ten times faster than me (and they had already caught up and ran passed), as fast as my legs could carry me. The calm silence of the hall was broken by their booming, low laughter and my snorts and giggles. "Wait for me, jerks!" I bellowed, a stitch forming in my sides from laughing and running. Obviously, they didn't slow their pace. There had been several predicaments like this before, but none were ever so close as this because we were always so quick to react. But not this time, we stopped to laugh. Silly boys.

"Wait!" I screeched again as I kicked off my terrible flats.

"Run for your lives! The caretaker is coming, the caretaker is coming!" one of the boys yelled, shoving a bunch first years out of his way. It was the very beginning of the year, so they didn't have enough backbone to stand up to him. Yes, we were already getting into some trouble the day after we got here. That is pure talent, what we do.

"Get back here!" Filch screamed at us. I giggled with the twins as we darted down a different hallway and into a deserted classroom. One of them sighed heavily as he relaxed himself and lay on a desk. The other leaned against the door, peaking out every now and then.

"Cool it, Fred," the twin on the desk said, laughing at his jumpiness. "He's not going to find us. Even if he does, why should we care?" I nodded in agreement, even though I hated detention. It was really pointless, weren't they about to realize we aren't going to learn our lesson?

Fred shrugged and stood up. "Hey, Trace…" he muttered, pointing at my feet, "you do realize you don't have any shoes on, right?" I laughed and nodded.

"You guys were going too fast, so I had to kick those nasty things off. Oh, and while I'm at it, thanks for waiting for me, guys." They didn't seem to care; they probably lost interest when I started getting a more irritated tone of voice.

He stretched and yawned, then opened the door. "My lady," he said, addressing me. One hand was on the doorknob, and his other arm welcoming me into the corridor.

"No, you go first. You just want me to get in trouble first," I answered and laughed. Fred flashed a grin at me.

"Maybe I was talking to George." I glanced over at George, who was now standing up and frowning. He punched Fred's arm playfully and walked out the door. I followed after him and Fred stalked behind me. He closed the door quietly and jogged to catch up with us.

"There you three are!" a rough voice shouted behind us. I stopped dead in my tracks and sighed. Busted.

"Oh, are you three going to be in trouble!" Filch said with glee, almost dancing down the hall to us. I grimaced, my lower lip pulling into a pout.

"Didn't you check both ways when you left, stupid?" I moaned at George, still with a

"Obviously not, rocket scientist." George shot a glare at me and looked at Filch. "'Ey, Filchy! How's it going, old man?"

"Oh, you _are_ going to be in trouble now, aren't you? Aren't you, Granston, Weasleys? Come, to my office! I have another punishment for you three already! I even have all the paperwork done. I finished it last night, since I knew I wasn't going to be lucky enough that this lot wasn't coming back. It's right on my desk, let's go! Your drawer of punishments awaits, highnesses!"

Wow, Filch had really gone batty over the summer; maybe he was paranoid. That made me feel special. It made me feel like I was doing my job well; like I was an Auror that had just killed all the Death Eater _and_ Voldemort. Yes, it felt that good.

Filch glared at our faces, scrutinized them, then points down the hall. "Go," was all he said. We trudged down the hallway with smirks planted across our face. I glanced back, and, sure enough, Filch was following. His demeanor was slightly more confident that how ours' was.

"He's gone insane," Fred whispered in my ear. I smiled slightly and bumped Fred with my hip. He was pushed, just a little bit, into George and they started chuckling. Filch glared at us and started yelling again.

"No contact, no laughing, no talking! You…" The rest of his sentence faded off into mumbled choice curse words and several insults. I held back another snigger by biting my lower lip and tugging at the hem of my robes.

When we got to Filch's office, he slammed the door shut and walked to his desk. He reached for a manila folder strewn across his desk and pulled out some paperwork. "Ah… your punishment for today! Let's see, let's see! Ooh, this _is_ going to be fun, isn't it?"

"No," the twins answered simultaneously. They were flanked at each of my side and looking like they were going to punch Filch or something of the sort. Fred's eyes kept darting to Filch, the folder, and the papers. He frowned in confusion, and then mumbled.

"Just give us our bloody detention and get it over with, it's nothing different, is it?"

"If I could have my own way, you would be hanging by your toes on a branch in the Forbidden Forest while being beat by those repulsive centaurs. You'll be helping the creatures in the kitchen for a week and cleaning all the professors' offices _and _banned from Quidditch practice for two weeks, effective immediately."

"I'm not even in Quidditch!" I protested with a frown.

"Then you'll be helping Professor Umbridge with her kittens," Filch said with a nasty grin.

"Her… _kittens?_" I sure didn't want to help that new lady with cats. They'd probably die as soon as I touched them.

"Yes, you'll be polishing her plates."

Now they're plates? What in the world had I gotten myself into?

"I'm blaming this all on you, Fred," I murmured.

"Hm… Why, Trace?" Fred asked, slightly distracted and mumbling. He probably wasn't very interested, since it was always "his fault", mostly because it was.

"Do I have to say? This was obviously your idea, to go and throw that stupid Fanged Frisbee at Malfoy's head. Then you told George to go into the hall. You should have known he was going to be almost as dumb as you and not check both ways. Of course, Filch catches us. See how it all leads back to you?" I hissed. Filch seemed rather amused as he listened to me insult Fred.

"Well, if you look into the detail, my naïve, naïve, Tracy, it all leads to you. See, the Frisbee was yours and you just do happen to take it to Hogwarts, knowing that it was a banned item. Well, why wouldn't you know? You've been here as long as me and George—"

"George and I, naïve boy," I snapped out of instinct.

"Whatever, don't interrupt, it's rude," Fred said, feigning seriousness. "You have been at Hogwarts as long as… George and I, and you very well know what's banned here and what isn't, Miss Perfect."

"I never said that I was perfect, Weasley!" I growled, raising my voice. Fred started to smirk in satisfaction. He knew that I would react this way. I was planted on a short fuse and ready to blow up at any time of the day.

"I never said that you said you were perfect. In fact, you're as far from perfect as it gets, Miss Flaws-'n'-All," Fred said, his smirk turning into a wicked grin.

"You said that I was perfect, now I'm imperfect!" I shouted. Filch was howling with laughter on the other side of the desk, along with George. In fact, George was on the floor, rolling around. The only times he stopped was to wipe a tear from his eye or to take a breath. Filch and George almost looked like best friends listening to the same joke.

"Don't talk about yourself like that; it's hurting your self-esteem, Granston," Fred pushed. This was his pastime, seeing if he could snap my last nerve. He never liked it when he did, but he just loved the process that got him there. Sometimes I would take it out on someone else, and, boy, he loved that even more than torturing Snape during Potions; that meant a lot.

I had the sudden urge to slap Fred, but I restrained myself by laughing coolly. "Well, I'd rather have low confidence than fancy Angelina," I retorted with a smirk of my own tugging at the sides of my lips. Filch let out an evil cackle while George stopped and stared – wide-eyed – at Fred. We waited in silence for at least half a minute for his reaction. I watched the muscles pull around his mouth as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

"At least I'm not a vixen!"

"I am not!" I screeched at the top of my lungs. I smacked Fred right across the face and stormed out of Filch's office without even asking permission.

Fred rubbed his cheek while Filch sounded like a baying donkey. George grinned evilly and pointed out, "She's an angsty teenage girl."

"You have no idea, George," Fred mumbled as he massaged his red cheek. "That really hurt."

"I think that's as hard as she can hit, though. Good thing, right?" George asked and chuckled softly at Fred's distorted face. It was a cross between pain and amusement. "Well, Filch, it was nice seeing you, but we got a hot date with some roast beef, pudding, and stink pellets."

And they left Filch in his office, snickering over his paperwork.

***

"Did he even tell you when you were having detention?" Ginny asked as we walked, very slowly, to the Great Hall. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

"No, I hit Fred and then walked out," I mumbled, smirking at the thought. "I hope when he's on his high horse today, there's going to be my handprint on his face, and it's going to be a bright red… just like his stupid hair."

"That's my hair too, you know!" Ginny said.

"But it looks ten times better on you," I answered and grinned sheepishly. "It's not like his ugly hair."

Ginny's mouth slid into a smirk. This usually happened when I got mad at Fred: I would insult him behind his back, but I would always run back to the crew. They, obviously, would welcome me with open arms. George always said they "needed me" for the smarter aspects of the prank. Like, if they were going to catapult some leftovers at Filch or Snape, they would have to have the angle and trajectory right. I was left to that. One time, I even had to find the right places to put the Filibuster's Fireworks in the best spots for them to explode at in Snape's office. That was some of the worst trouble we've ever gotten into in our pranking career.

"Are you going to talk to Fred and George when you're done eating?" Ginny asked, the smile still on her face.

"No, I'm going to wait for them to need me this time. They will any time now. In fact, they might need me tomorrow, even. They were talking about this amazing prank with a Forgetfulness Potion in Malfoy's breakfast drink. They'll need me to figure out how to get it in there probably. They're complete dunderheads."

"I already knew that," Ginny mumbled and rolled her eyes.

"I would expect you to, since you live with them. Anyways, how was Potions?" I asked, making small conversation. I was tired of talking about the twins.

"It was good, I suppose. Snape had us make a Hate Potion. When I started giggling, he gave me detention. We already hate him enough, why would he need a potion for hate? I mean, really," Ginny explained. I smiled.

"Did that in my third year, too. He just deducted points from Ravenclaw, though. Maybe that was because I wasn't in the shadow of any dumb siblings?" Apparently, no matter how hard I tried, the twins were always in our conversations.

A silence enveloped us, then Ginny finally said, "So… I hear that Viktor Krum's going to be coming for the Triwizard Tournament. That would be a nice change, don't you think? No one would hang over Harry; they'd be all over Krum. He wasn't too bad at the Cup, though; I'll give him that. Bulgaria lost to Ireland and they got the Snitch, too. Ireland was brilliant."

"I didn't know you liked Quidditch! That was the only reason I hung out with you. I'm tired of almost all the conversations that I have with everyone: Quidditch, players, and whatnot. You know what? We're over!" I joked, a sly smile on my face.

"Wait… Who was the male in this relationship?"

"You were, obviously! I mean, look at those man-hands!" I said, pointing at her hands. We started to laugh and we did for a while until Harry ran up behind us.

"Hey, Ginny… Tracy. So, did you really slap Fred? He has a nice mark on his face," he asked. He was grinning as he did.

"Yeah, I did. He was making me mad. He called me a vixen."

"He did?" Ginny interrupted, her jaw ajar.

"Why else would I hit him? Nothing else he really says can make me mad. Sure, he'll annoy me, but no one calls me a vixen. If anyone's a vixen, it's him."

"… But isn't a vixen a… girl?" Harry asked after a couple seconds of pondering.

"Exactly," I answered with an evil gleam in my eyes.

"Ooh, harsh words for a traitor," Fred said from behind us. A smug look crossed over Ginny's face when she heard her brother's voice. Harry smiled, waiting for the outcome. I stopped and turned away from Harry and Ginny to eye up Fred. I looked at my handprint that blazed as red as his hair and burst out in laughter. It felt good to know that whenever someone looked at the jokester of the school, they would see my hand ablaze on his cheek.

"It's not funny!" Fred yelled, covering his face with his hands.

"Oh, yes it is, Weasley! I hope that my work will inspire first years to do the same and your reputation will be ruined. In fact, I think that it's already down the toilets. Anyway, I'm kind of hungry. All this hitting has given me an appetite. See you later, the Boy Who Was Marked by a Girl."

Harry snickered at the tweaking of his name; I could hear him when I walked away to the Great Hall.

When I walked in the Great Hall, a couple people clapped. Some people even had the nerve for high-five me. Didn't they think I could slap them, too? But I felt like being nice.

I sat down at the Ravenclaw table that adorned in blue and silver tablecloth. I had to admit it, the chick that made the house had some taste in color for being supremely old. What was her name again? Oh, right, Rowena. Or was it Rohan? Why was I even in this House in the first place?


End file.
